Roses are Red
by Someone's Imaginary Shadow
Summary: /Very old/   Sasori has passed and Deidara is cleaning out his old poison drawer. What does he find tucked at the bottom?


"You know, people often compare themselves to flowers." Sasori stated, trying to strike up a conversation with his unusually quiet partner, who was currently reclining on the window sill of their shared room.

"Really?" The blonde inquired," why would they do that?"

Sasori was quiet for a few moments while he debated weather or not he should shove a blade he was holding into the arm of a puppet he was working on at his work bench.

"For amusement purposes, probably. My grandmother used to tell me that my flower was a rose."

Deidara snickered. "Every rose has it's thorns, Danna, un."

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

"Well, considering you're a puppet, your body must be nearly flawless -the rose- but your crappy attitude ruins everything, un!"

"Brat...That was offending..." The puppet stated aloud, but he would've smiled if he could, because, for once, the bomber had a very good point.

Hours passed as the duo went back to what they were previously doing. By the time anyone spoke again, Sasori was almost finished his puppet, and Deidara was no longer sitting in a patch of afternoon sun, but the subtle bliss of sunset.

"Danna?"

"Hn." The redhead replied.

"What do you think my flower is? I've been thinking all this time, but i can't seem to remember any exploding flowers,un." Deidara grinned. Sasori looked up at his partner with his usual bored expression.

"Hmmm... A violet, maybe?"

Two weeks later Deidara was cleaning out all of Sasori's belongings from his side of their room to make space for Tobi. Curse his luck for getting stuck with such an idiot as a partner! After a few hours of of chucking Sasori's things out the window into Zetsu's garden below as a result of needing something to let his anger out on, Deidara started swiping random bottles of poison of the self and dumping them down the bathroom sink. As the numbers of different poisons diminished, a crisp white envelope was exposed underneath. The bomber carefully picked it up and flipped it over. It read:

_Deidara_

_Open the Day I Died,_

_Next year,_

_Place of death._

Deidara wondered if he should just rip open the envelope here and now, when Tobi came crashing through the door.

"SENPAIIII!"

"IDIOT! KAKUZU WILL MAKE ME PAY FOR THAT DOOR!"

And so, the envelope was tucked away at the bottom of a clay carrying pouch, forgotten until...

**ONE YEAR LATER**

"TOBI! GIVE IT BACK!" Deidara screeched as Tobi happily pranced off to show Pein what he had made out of Deidara's clay. "OK, Tobi, you asked for it..." he mumbled, then hollered, "KATSU!" A large explosion echoed down thee hallway as Deidara retreated into his room to check if there was any clay Tobi didn't take from his pouch. Calmer now, he looked into the pouch. turns out, there wasn't any clay left, but what there was was a folded up dirty envelope.

"This is Sasori no Danna's note, un..." He whispered to himself. he blonde re- read the front of the envelope, and checked that calendar to be sure, then headed off in the direction of a certain puppet-strewn battlefield.

Deidara stood at the center of the wreckage and looked all around him. Ruined puppets of all shapes and sizes were scattered, broken, all across the battlefield. Remembering why he was here, the blonde looked down at the tattered envelope he was holding in his hands. Carefully ripping the top open, he extracted a thin piece of paper and unfolding it, held it open to read.

"Roses are Red..."

The blonde remembered his former partner and the last decent conversation they shared- of people compared to flowers, calling himself a rose.

"Violets are Blue..."

Deidara stopped reading- partially because he knew the rest, partially because tears had blotted out the rest of the words. The bomber smiled faintly. Jeez, when was the last time he had smiled? The short man proceeded to rip the note to shreds, but tenderly, with gently hands. Cupping the fragments of paper in both his hands,he let them drift away on the faint breeze, scattering over the many puppets, letting every piece blow away on it's own before he turned and began to wander absently back to the Akatsuki Lair.

"Sugar is sweet...And so are you..."

And so, in the middle of that battlefield, where a single tear fell into the soil, a rose bush grew. Flowering only when, miles away, a field of violets, growing in a gigantic circular dent in the ground flowered. Destined to always be apart, but together in their own way.


End file.
